


Jericho's Compromise

by saraid



Series: Knights Errant [7]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4146648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saraid/pseuds/saraid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throwing caution to the winds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jericho's Compromise

"You're looking much improved, Qui-Gon." 

There was a question in the dark voice. It was as dark and rich as the skin of the man that used it, and Obi-Wan felt that he wanted to shiver. Not at the voice per se, but the threat it represented. Mace Windu was one of Qui-Gon's oldest friends, and also one of the Council members who spoke the loudest against him. Their friendship had not escaped being damaged by the professional animosity, and Obi-Wan knew that his Sonju missed the companionship of the man he had shared his childhood with. The friendship was sometimes strained, and occasionally fragile, but they managed to keep it alive with careful effort. It was undoubtedly one of the reasons Qui had tried to let Mace make love to him when Mace had asked if they could renew their past affair. 

"My illness is gone. The Healers say I am fit again." Qui-Gon answered from the small open cooking room. 

Sitting on the nice, normal sofa that dominated their common room, the youngest knight present kept his expression friendly but wary, and took a moment to look around. Because of Qui-Gon's height, the sofa was very large. Between it, his own old worktable and Qui-Gon's bookshelves, the room was cluttered, but comfortably so. The thought of a sofa like Mace's, with millions of small creatures swimming beneath and around you, made Obi-Wan shudder, and smile mentally. Qui-Gon picked up the thought and teased him as he carried in a handful of small cups filled with rich broth. The salty smell filled the room. 

"Then you are ready to be added back onto the duty roster." Mace accepted his cup and sipped while Qui-Gon sat, a few feet away from Obi-Wan. Both men on the couch blew on their snacks, the liquid too hot to drink, and Mace noticed, a short chuckle escaping him. "The hotter it is, the better it tastes." 

"Hard to taste anything with a scalded tongue." Qui-Gon delicately tested the temperature with the tip of said organ and Obi-Wan had to close his eyes. The sight threatened to overwhelm him. 

They were probably reaching the time limit again. There didn't seem to be any set pattern to it. Qui had hypothesized that the length of time they could go without making love was probably inversely proportionate to their general proximity between sessions of love-making. 

He'd suggested this hypothesis with Obi-Wan's cock resting on his bottom lip, in the middle of fellatio, and Obi-Wan had hit him with a pillow. 

The memory made him smile now, and start to reach out along the bond, but they were trying to keep it down around others, especially powerful Council members, and he drew himself back. There was a faint gnawing sensation in his belly, and a tingling at the back of his neck, and he knew he was right. 

They needed to get alone, as soon as they could. His thoughts had distracted him from the conversation, but when he turned his attention back to it, Mace was responding to Qui-Gon's retort, sounding mildly put off. 

"If this isn't the way you like it, why do you always heat it so hot?" 

Qui-Gon sipped carefully, his eyes on his friend's face, a sadness in them. 

"Because you like it that way." He answered, as if that explained everything." 

Mace blinked, then smiled briefly, and then frowned. Obi-Wan wondered what he was thinking. Had he felt the shiver of energy that was dancing across Obi's skin, making him want to shiver and warm himself in the fire of his Sonju's touch? 

"If you're cleared to go back on duty, there is a mission to be assigned that I think would suit you." Mace said it as if the words did taste bad. That meant it was a mission that could require a lot of independent decision-making. The same reasons that Qui-Gon was one of the best at things like that were the reasons Mace frowned. He was convinced, Obi-Wan knew, that eventually Qui-Gon was going to go too far, and either get himself killed or the Council in hot water. 

"No." Qui-Gon said, softly. Mace and Obi-Wan both stared at him. 

"Well, there are plenty of other assignments." Mace said after a few seconds of startlement. "If you feel that something more basic would better suit you now. Give you a few weeks to get back up to speed..." 

"No." Qui-Gon spoke louder and more firmly this time. He set his cup aside and leaned forward, hands clasped between spread knees. "I do not want to be on the roster, Mace. Not tomorrow, not for a few days. Perhaps longer." 

Also setting his cup down, giving Obi-Wan a sideways glance that spoke volumes of suspicion, Mace matched Qui-Gon's pose. 

"We are spread thin, Master Jinn, as well you know. To keep you off the roster, healthy and healed, would raise many questions." 

"I am tired, Mace." The voice demonstrated the truth of the words. "I am tired, and I am weary to my soul. I need some time to myself, time to think and plan and rest." 

"You've been resting for more than four weeks, Qui-Gon." Mace's temper showed in the heat of his words. The arrogance that so angered Qui-Gon was present as well. "Not only you, but Knight Kenobi has been at your side for the last eight days, refusing to accept his next assignment as well. Will he be beside you while you *rest*?" 

"I will be wherever my master tells me to be." Obi-Wan spoke up for the first time since greeting Mace when he entered Qui-Gon's quarters thirty minutes ago. 

"He is no longer your master!" Mace snapped. He stood, abruptly. With his anger visible, he willed himself to calm, and it came to him, after a time. "I wish to speak to Qui-Gon alone, Knight Kenobi. Please excuse us." 

Qui-Gon stood and gestured when Obi-Wan would have moved. He really did not want to leave the quarters, but telling Mace so was not an option. 

"These are my rooms, Mace. It is not for you to decide who comes and goes." 

"I apologize." Mace said immediately. "Qui-Gon, can we talk? I can't help but feel this is related to what happened between us before you took ill. Do you feel this was my fault somehow?" 

"No, Mace. Of course not. I should have paid closer attention to my physical state and postponed our evening." 

"So it is just postponed?" Mace asked, with a sideways glance at Obi-Wan that made the young knight nervous. 

"Truly, Mace, I do not know when I will feel comfortable joining you in your bed again." Qui-Gon shifted, and spoke with sorrow. "I'm afraid my mind haa made a connection between the sickness and what came before." 

Obi-Wan restrained a snort, even as he admired his Sonju's diplomacy. They both knew that Qui-Gon would never again try to have sex with anyone else, no matter how close the friendship. 

"I am sorry to hear that." Mace was looking at Obi-Wan again, more openly now, and he spoke directly to him. "Obi-Wan, would you mind excusing us for a few moments? I wish to speak to Qui-Gon privately." 

He hesitated, but did not look to Qui for support. Then, with a stifled sigh, Obi-Wan stood, wrapping his cloak more tightly about himself. 

"Of course, Master Windu. I think I will look for Bant in the gardens. She's supposed to have arrived on-planet yesterday." He looked at Qui-Gon, felt the Force stir between them. "If you could join me when you're done, Master Qui-Gon, we could continue the discussion we were having earlier." 

"I'd like that." 

What Qui-Gon would really like, and Obi-Wan as well, would be to dismiss Mace and drag the younger man into the bedroom, where they could bond themselves with the Force dancing around them in colors. 

"Then I will see you later." Obi-Wan bowed. "Master Windu, My Master." 

 

It was an effort to make himself leave the room, going into the hallway reluctantly. Since he had come running to Qui-Gon to draw the older man out of his Force-induced coma, they had hibernated in those rooms as much as possible, making love as mood and the Force moved them. To put off the lovemaking when they wanted it so - when they needed it, more or less - was a new experience, and he didn't think either one of them was going to enjoy it. Hopefully the need would fade with time as their connection settled, but there were no guarantees. The information he had found had been scanty, and much of it untranslatable, though he was still working at it. 

They would work through it, whatever happened. He was surprised that he didn't feel pressured, or angry that some decisions had been taken from him. If this was the will of the Force, then he was content. It seemed that the Force would protect them, but there were things outside of that realm, things he didn't think even the Force could disguise. The protection wouldn't be worth much if they were separated. Thier insistence that they be allowed to remain together would draw attention, and the Council was sure to object. 

His thoughts kept Obi-Wan occupied as he wandered the gardens. They weren't as extensive as some he had seen, but, thanks to the initiates and padawans that studied here, they were bountiful. Because of the technological nature of Coruscant free land was rare, and so the Temple gardens consisted of tiered levels fit into niches between walls and outbuildings. Any little spot that could hold dirt became a part of them. The Temple itself sometimes felt crowded, but the gardens, as eccentric and scattered as they were, held enough growing energy to make them feel light and open, even where the walls pressed close. 

He wondered what his Sonju was planning. For the moment they had postponed the inevitable confrontation with the Council, but when it came he did not think it would go their way, no matter what the Force willed. The rules against relationships between the Jedi had been in place too long, the strictures backed by a five hundred cycles or more of tradition. Perhaps they had been needed at one time, perhaps there had been problems with bonded Jedi neglecting their duties. None of that mattered to him, right now. 

Right now he wanted his mate with him, in his arms, so they could drown in each other again. But he couldn't even reach out to him, for fear of being discovered. 

Pausing in a small alcove, a niche between two exterior walls, filled with frothy ferns and a purple-flowering vine, the greenery almost screening it completely from the main path, Obi-Wan leaned back into the nearest wall and pulled his cloak tighter around his body, hiding his face in his hood. Meditation would serve more purpose now than these meandering thoughts, but he felt strangely unwilling to submerge himself. Coruscant's sun beat down weakly, trying its best to warm him through the thick cloudy haze that coated the atmosphere. Where it touched the purple flowers they appeared translucent, filmy. As if he could pass his fingers through the velvety petals without harming them. 

The Force was strong here, in this small space, perhaps five feet square, though it was an awkward triangular shape. Opening to it, Obi-Wan felt the pull inside grow stronger and wished that Qui-Gon was with him, and not back in his rooms talking to Master Windu. 

He wished they could just leave all of this behind and go away, to someplace quiet, where they wouldn't have to hide. Where their time was their own and they could follow the path the Force had laid before them. 

Even as he thought it Obi-Wan felt guilt well. Would he abandon his duty so eagerly? Deny all that he had trained for, so many years, ask that Qui-Gon do the same? Being a Jedi was all his mate had ever known, it was all Obi-Wan had wanted since he was old enough to understand what it was. Sometimes a creche child reached the age of understanding, usually five or six for a human, and discovered that being Jedi was *not* what they wanted. By then a child usually had enough control over the Force that they could be returned to their families safely, and they were. But Obi-Wan had never doubted. Even when it seemed that he wouldn't get the chance to become a Jedi, when he was sent to the AgriCorps, even then he had wanted to be Jedi. More so, if possible. 

Sliding down the wall, barely warmed with the heat of the sun, he crossed his legs and set his elbows on knees, clenching his hands into fists and closing his eyes. 

Would he abandon the Republic so easily? There weren't enough Jedi as it was, problems rose daily that only a Jedi could solve. People needed him, needed what he - and Qui-Gon, especially Qui-Gon - could do. To turn his back on that for his own personal happiness would be wrong, just wrong. Despair suddenly filled him as he realized; they had made the wrong choice. Whatever the Force said, this path would send them from the Order. They should have stopped this when they could have. 

His thoughts drew him down, into a deep well of emotion. Uncontrolled, it sucked at him. Despair, fear, pain, shame, guilt; a depth of negative energy that threatened to pull him under, to overwhelm him. 

They should have stopped when they could have. 

"I don't think it was ever an option." The deep voice was soft, and a bit harsh. Raspy, as if the speaker was trying to control his breathing but didn't have enough air. "I believe this was destined from that moment on Bandomeer when our minds first touched." 

"Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan groaned, quietly. Sonju! his mind cried, but he bit back the word that struggled on his tongue. "This - this is -" 

"It is the way things are, Sonju." Big hands slid into his armpits, strong arms lifted him without strain, and he was being held close to a warmth that surpassed the suns of Tatooine. "Your thoughts do nothing more than cause pain - why do you think them?" 

"Because it's true." Gripping the front of Qui-Gon's robe, Obi-Wan mashed his face into the broad chest. Qui-Gon's arms went around his shoulders, those hands gripped his sides tightly. Warm breath washed over the top of his head, stirring his hair. "We've betrayed the Order, Master." The title fell from his lips, tumbled with his shame and rising pain. "We've lied, cheated, abandoned missions and stolen time that was not ours. How can the Force support this? How can we accept it?" There was a tightness in his throat, and he tried desperately to swallow it back. Tears were not a sign of weakness, to cry was a healthy expression of sorrow, but now it would be no more than self-pity. 

"We did what the Force required of us. What circumstances compelled us to do. If the Council was less rigid, if the rules were less strident... But they are not, and we are what we are." 

"What are we?" Knowing the question to be ridiculous, knowing that the answer was simple, and present in his own heart, he asked still. "Tell me what we are, Qui. Then tell me what we will *become*." 

"We are Sonju." The older man whispered, and he kissed the top of Obi-Wan's head tenderly. Then Qui-Gon's hands slid up to cradle his mate's face between them, the callous- roughened palms adding texture to the caress that warned of strength. "We are Jedi." He said sternly, tilting Obi-Wan's face so that their eyes met. "Whatever the future brings, whatever the Force asks of us, these are the foundations of our lives, and our life together." 

"I need you." Still lost in the swirling emotions, Obi-Wan reached for the one thing he was sure of. This neediness frightened him, his uncontrolled emotions appalled him, but this was the one thing he knew he could trust. Qui-Gon's love for him. "It's been too long. Touch me." 

Without answering, Qui-Gon turned Obi-Wan in his arms and backed himself to the wall, pulling the smaller man with him. Bracing his legs wide, the taller man slid down a bit and tightened his arms around his mate, both hands sliding between the layers of cloak and tunics to slip into his leggings and tenderly grasp his cock, which was already swollen with want. Obi-Wan smothered a groan, turning his head to bite the arm that slid over his shoulder. Wantonly he pressed his buttocks back and felt the hot length of his mate's arousal hard in the crease of his ass. 

"Here, Master." He gasped, grinding his hips back, thrusting into the hands that held his tightly. "Now. I can't wait." 

Technically, they were in a public place, but he did not care. They had waited too long and the Force was demanding this completetion. Apparently agreeing with him, Qui-Gon nuzzled Obi-Wan's neck, and he let his head fall to the side, then gasped sharply as the older man bit down, hard. One hand slipped around between them and rubbed gentle fingers at the top of his crease, making him shudder. Then it crept downwards and Obi-Wan lifted his own hand, fisted, and bit down on the knuckles to muffle the sound that rose in his throat. 

"Inside you." Qui-Gon grunted, suddenly using both hands to yank down the leggings, and lift his cloak out of the way, to the side. It was awkward and undignified, but Obi-Wan didn't care. When the first thick, blunt finger sank into his passage he moaned, and his own free hand went to his erection, now exposed beneath his disarrayed cloak, and he wrapped it in trembling fingers and began stroking. 

He shuddered as Qui-Gon shifted his lips and bit again, then again. Two fingers in him now, stretching him. The burn was there, the slight pain he always felt at this point. It would flare brighter when Qui-Gon entered him, his Sonju's organ was long and thick, heavy with the blood that thrummed through his large body. 

The ferns shivered around them as Qui-Gon slid lower on the wall, his back hard against it, using it for balance. His hands parted Obi-Wan's cheeks and the touch of smooth velvet heat made the younger man shudder harder. 

The Force danced around them, a cloud of color gathering. Briefly Obi-Wan wondered if it was visible to anyone else. If someone were to step into this alcove now, would they see the sparks of blue and green, the wash of lavender that Obi-Wan *felt*? How could a color be a feeling? 

It didn't matter. Qui was entering him, his hands firm on Obi-Wan's hips, holding him steady against the pressure, which was painful and delightful all at once. He didn't pause, just slid all the way in and then wrapped his arms around the younger man and pulled him close, hiding his face in Obi-Wan's neck. 

Unable to stop it, Obi-Wan moaned aloud. He felt the echo of his cry vibrating through the skin of his neck when Qui-Gon began to move. Not thrusting, just circular movements of his hips that made the cock inside Obi-Wan throb and swell further. 

He stroked himself in time with those movements, feeling the chest against his back begin to heave, feeling the sweat that ran down his own face, the trickle of it that fell from Qui-Gon's face to Obi-Wan's shoulder. It tickled, but he paid it no mind. His Master's hair became sweaty and stuck to them both and they shuddered at regular intervals, together. 

He struggled briefly, wanting to pull away and thrust back, to take his mate violently, to make his mate pound into him, but Qui-Gon held him tighter, harder, leaving bruises on his ribs, and Obi-Wan could only tighten his own grip on his cock and bite down harder on his fist, tasting the salty-sweet tang of blood as he broke the skin. He stroked himself roughly, ruthlessly, ignoring the pain of tender skin rubbed raw. 

The Force around them darkened and for a moment he feared, but then Qui-Gon stiffened and his hips jerked, helplessly, and he bit Obi-Wan's neck, his teeth smooth and his breath hot, and Obi-Wan came with a body-clenching jerk, shaking and moaning around the fist he had stuffed halfway into his mouth. His jaw ached, and he sagged when it was over, and Qui-Gon caught him, barely, and lowered them both gently to the ground, his softened cock coming free in the process. 

They gasped harshly, trying to fill lungs that felt raw and compressed. 

"Look..." Qui-Gon muttered, hands gripping Obi-Wan's head too tightly, fingers digging into the skin at his temples painfully, turning him so that he could see the wall behind them. 

There was a shadow there, vaguely Qui-Gon-torso shaped, hinted at in shades of lavender and mauve. 

"Sith." Obi-Wan responded darkly. "Is that going to happen wherever we make love now? I can't imagine everyone will be happy with the new decor. Transports, rooming houses..." 

"Irrelevant." Qui-Gon said flatly. "We need to get inside and rest a bit. I feel - quite drained by that encounter." 

"Encounter?" Obi-Wan tipped his head back and felt a smile breaking over his face, watched the matching expression surface on his mate's face. "Encounter?!" 

"That exquisite lovemaking experience?" Qui-Gon offered, his hands gentling, moving to tidy Obi-Wan's tousled cloak and leggings. The greenery beneath his bare bottom felt sticky, and he concentrated, then realized he could feel the thick seed as it oozed from him. It was still very warm and that made him shudder again, and his own cock twitched at the thought. 

/Yes./ He sighed mentally, some part of him wanting that contact, needing it as much as the physical one. /That's exactly what it was./ 

/But we still require rest./ Qui opened his mind and they fell into each other eagerly. They had been denying the bond since Mace arrived at their door just after noonmeal and now they wallowed in it, reveling in the completion and comfort it offered. 

/We should quit trying to hide this./ Obi-Wan said as they stood. He braced one hand on the wall and offered the other to Qui-Gon, who used it to pull himself up, legs shaky. 

/I think I pulled something./ There was a smile in those dark blue eyes that Obi-Wan couldn't meet. His earlier feelings of guilt and shame were returning, and he didn't feel strong enough to fight them off. Qui-Gon took his hand and raised it to his lips, and kissed it, the beard just brushing the skin. /I do not think we can hide it anymore, Sonju./ He said in Obi-Wan's mind. /From now we will simply deal with the consequences of our actions. Do not fear that we will abandon our duties. There are many ways to help people and many people to help. With or without the backing of the Order, we will always be Jedi./ 

"They can't take that away from us." Obi-Wan agreed, lifting up to kiss Qui-Gon with the same tenderness. 

"No, they cannot." 

 

The chatter of a hundred races spilled out from the dining hall into the wide corridor. It was a familiar, comforting sound that never failed to remind Obi-Wan that he was home. He was safe and among friends. Often on missions they encountered races and beings who mistrusted them just because they were Jedi, most of those they helped, or tried to help, did not understand them. They were alternately feared, ridiculed, and hated. Misunderstandings and misconceptions abounded. But here, in the Temple, everyone knew what is was to be a part of the Force, and to answer its call. 

His booted feet were soundless on the heavy granite floor, polished by generations of Jedi entering here, the single arched doorway twelve feet high and fifteen wide, to accommodate every race that might come here, every race that could become Jedi, and some that could not. From the smallest to the largest; tiny Sarkovips, a marsupial race that was seldom taller than ten inches and never weighed more then thirty pounds, their lightsabers created on a scale that escaped Obi-Wan's imagination, and the huge, lumbering B'droo, sometimes three times the size of a fully grown Wookie, whose gentle natures were belied by their fierce battle joy. They were also known as Healers of talent. Humans were somewhere in the middle range of strength and size, though they had extremes at either end. Qui-Gon, with his great height and broad shoulders, was one of those. 

Smiling ruefully, Obi-Wan knew that he was not. But he was the youngest to have ever ranked first at Level 9, and he was justifiably proud of that. Caught in his thoughts, he did not notice the gradual hush that fell over the room until he was almost to the serving line. But the hairs on the back of his neck rose and he suppressed a shiver, and slowly turned to look out across the cavernous room. 

Dozens of long tables, set neatly into rows, the step-raised levels that divided the children's, initiates', padawans', knights' and masters' sections. More than half were full at this early hour, the nocturnals eating lastmeal while the daylighters broke their nighttime fast. 

And more than half of them were looking at him, staring, their eyes shuttered, mouths closing, conversations falling silent. 

Obi-Wan turned his body around, arms at his side, prepared for any confrontation that might come. He didn't know what this was, but it couldn't be good. Had the council found out? Had someone finally discovered their secret? Instinctively he reached for Qui, and found the older man still sleeping. His body was healed from the separation, but he still tired more easily, and their activities yesterday and last night had worn him out. Obi-Wan had an advanced philosophy class to attend and had left him grudgingly, determined to maintain his schedule, to learn as much as he could and advance as far as he could before something happened to disrupt that and remove those opportunities from his grasp. 

The faces turned away from him, and whispers filled the room. The grew louder until the normal volume was reached, and Obi-Wan turned back to the serving line. There was no one in front of him, and he approached with mild trepidation, unsure what to expect. 

The servant that stood behind it was waiting patiently, but he did not greet Obi-Wan. Taking that as a sign, the knight did not speak either, just helped himself to the dishes that appealed to him and turned away again. The servant was there in case of a problem or a special request, not to wait on anyone. Most of the Temple servants had come as children, as Jedi hopefuls, but failed for one reason or another. Too old to be trained when they were found, not strong enough in the Force to be Jedi, or even Healers or to join the AgriCorps, they stayed on, where they were comfortable and well treated. Free to come and go, to take quarters where they would, they were paid well and treated as part of the Order. Obi-Wan had once feared that he would become one of them. 

Walking more slowly than was his wont, he threaded his way between tables. The Masters sat to the left of the serving line, and the Knights in front of it. The initiates were the furthest away, the creche children's tables sandwiched between the knights and padawans. This was often noisy, but served to set a good example for the children, who often developed favorites among their elders. It wasn't uncommon for a knight or padawan to unofficially adopt a child of the creche. They would spend time with them, take them on outings, give them the extra attention some children needed, sometimes at the Creche Master's request. For the first time, Obi-Wan thought it odd that he had never been approached for that duty. Nor had his Master, as far as he knew. Was that a commentary? A judgement of them that he had not realized had been made? The thought disturbed him, and he sat at the last of the knights' tables, the closest to the children's, where no one else sat, and he thought about it while he ate methodically. 

Conversation buzzed and it all sounded normal. Perhaps he had misunderstood the reaction he'd gotten when he first entered? Taking a large bite of blanna bread and washing it down with a gulp of hot broth, he glanced around, and saw something that surprised him. 

Bant was seated at the next table over. Beside her were two of their agemates, both recently knighted. He had missed their ceremonies, away on missions so much of the time. But it was odd that Bant had not greeted him or come to sit with him. They were trying to maintain the fiction of the too-close relationship that they had presented to Master Windu, so perhaps this was only more of that. Scanning the room, Obi-Wan saw that Master Windu was seated at a Masters' table, so that made some sense. 

But why had none of the others come over to say hello? He had sat apart from the rest because he'd wanted to be near the children - who were giggling and making a lot of noise, and quite a mess around their tables, especially the toddlers. Infants were fed in their section of the creche. There was one Jedi or padawan for every three children, and it didn't seem like enough to keep them focussed. Obi-Wan smiled, watching a fuzzy little Wookie girl try to use the Force to lift a morsel of fruit to her mouth. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her little hands knotted into fists. The fruit hesitated in midair, and it seemed that she was going to fail her attempt. His smile widening, Obi-Wan reached out with the Force and nudged the chunk, which was leaving a drippy trail of sticky juice across the table, toward her mouth. She felt him help, and leaned forward and snapped it up, chewing happily, smiling at him with a flash of large teeth. 

Then she frowned again, and shook her head, her eyes going to the knight that was seated across from her, his back to Obi-Wan. 

She looked from him to Obi-Wan and seemed on the verge of tears, and he half-stood, not wanting her to be reprimanded for something he had encouraged, and then the knight got up and went around the table and gathered her into a hug, her sturdy body clinging to his as he lifted her out of her chair. Over her brown shoulder he gave Obi-Wan a hard look and then deliberately let his eyes slide off Obi-Wan's face and away from him. 

It was too intentional for him to miss the meaning. The knight would not meet his eyes. 

And the child was not allowed to? 

Suddenly the food he had chosen was starkly unappetizing. He stood and lifted the tray, depositing it in the recycling chute, and went to the door, where he had entered only a little while ago, thinking peaceful thoughts about this room and its meaning to him. Now he faced it, and not one person lifted their head to acknowledge his presence, or his departure. There were a few sideways glances that slid over him unpleasantly, and he just stood there for a moment more, absorbing the aura, feeling the Force gather around him, and then he left. The food he had eaten sat like a lump in his belly, just above the knot that twisted it. 

He went directly to Qui-Gon's rooms and into the bedroom. His Sonju had begin to wake as soon as he approached the door and was sitting up by the time he got there, holding out his arms for him. Obi-Wan stopped at the side of the bed, hands on his hips, and spoke. He'd expected to snarl, meant to, but the words came out in a defeated sigh instead. 

"We're being shunned." He gave in as soon as they hit the air, and crawled into Qui-Gon's arms, allowing his mate to hold him and sooth him with his touch. After a few minutes he took a deep breath and spoke again. "I just don't know why. If they have discovered us, then why would they deal with it this way? I expected to be called before the Council and reprimanded." 

Qui-Gon lay back against the wall and rocked him a bit, stroking his chest and arms. 

"I don't think they know. This is probably a response to my refusal to return to duty." 

"Then why am I being shunned as well?" Twisting in those arms, Obi-Wan lay on his mate's chest, Qui-Gon spreading his legs so he could settle between them. 

"After yesterday Mace must think you're going to refuse assignment as long as I do." 

"He's right. But why shunning? Why not something more - confrontational?" Snuggling close, Obi-Wan traced his fingers in a circle over Qui-Gon's heart. The bare skin was warm and elastic and smelled of male musk. Qui-Gon smell. 

"They do not want a direct confrontation. It would not be the first time I threatened to leave the Order because something was not done the way I wanted. It is a compliment, in a way. Instead of directly punishing us for our refusal -" 

"They make it known that they are displeased with us but don't actually do anything to force us to do what they want." Obi-Wan concluded. 

"It means they do not wish to be rid of us." 

"Yet." The younger man breathed, scenting deeply. The Force stirred and he felt the want rise in him. The sensation had become so common to him that he simply fed it into the Force and found it returned trebled. 

"Let me check my messages and see if they notified us before they made this decision." Easing the younger man off of him and onto the bed, Qui-Gon walked naked across the room to the com panel. Obi-Wan watched him with hungry eyes, beginning to remove his own clothing. Casually, not in a rush, but enjoying the sight of the pale, muscular buttocks and the long line of back and lean thigh. The hair brushing his Master's shoulders was tangled from sleep but drew him and made him want harder. 

"We were rather busy last night." He chuckled, dropping his boots to the floor with two distinct thumps. He saw the shiver that passed through the large body and it made him grin. 

"No message." Qui-Gon turned and leaned back, hands on the console, pelvis thrust forward. He wasn't trying to be seductive, but he was succeeding, and Obi-Wan gasped and yanked his leggings down. 

"Get over here." He demanded. 

"Why?" A slow smile spread across the bearded face, and now Qui-Gon became aware of his pose, and played into it. His shoulders went back and he tilted his head, letting his hair fall across his face, and his thighs tensed. His cock rose rapidly, eager after a night's rest to resume its duties. 

Obi-Wan was finding it hard to breathe. 

"Please." He whispered. /Please./ 

He was naked now. In two bounds Qui-Gon was in the bed, landing atop him heavily, forcing the air out of Obi-Wan's lungs with an oof that made him laugh breathlessly. 

"I'm over here." Qui-Gon smiled down at him, levering himself up on his elbows, giving Obi-Wan room to breathe. "Now what?" 

"Now you make love to me. Again." 

"As often as I can." Qui-Gon's voice dropped and his knees pushed against Obi-Wan's, spreading his legs. Willingly he lifted them and they fit themselves together quickly. "Around my waist." The older man urged and Obi-Wan complied, taking his own weight on his shoulders as Qui-Gon rose over him, hands at their groins, guiding his cock into Obi-Wan. With no preparation it hurt a bit more, but the Force was with them and it faded almost as soon as it came. 

"Rgh!" Obi-Wan growled, tilting his head back and arching his torso off the bed. He tightened his legs around Qui-Gon and the older man slid home with a grunt. "More!" Obi-Wan demanded. He gripped Qui-Gon's arms, bruising, and thrust upwards, trying to take more of him. 

"As you wish." His Sonju gasped, and then began thrusting into him, setting a hard, fast pace. Obi-Wan writhed beneath him, his ankles locked in the small of the older man's back, his hands using Qui-Gon's bulging arms for leverage as he met each thrust. He moaned loudly, with abandon, as the thrusts became longer and harder. 

His cock was in the air between them, the angle wrong to rub it on Qui-Gon's stomach, only the tip touching the line of hair that led to the heavy cock that impaled him. A line of pearly fluid soon collected there, in that soft dark hair. 

"More..." He moaned, straining higher. Eyes shut tightly, head flung back, he reached his mind for Qui-Gon's and felt the answering need. 

Qui-Gon slid his hands from Obi-Wan's hips to his buttocks, grabbing them and pulling them further apart, lifting him further in the air, changing the angle, forcing his weight onto his neck. Obi-Wan cried out and bucked into that grip and ground himself onto that cock, and he shook with the power of it as he came, splattering Qui-Gon's belly and his own chest. 

His mate grabbed his knees and pushed them back, doubling him up, and rose over him, sinking so far into his body that Obi-Wan could feel it in his throat, and then Qui-Gon pounded into him, again and again, until he froze and his fingers bit into the tender skin of Obi-Wan's thighs and he turned his head and bit the leg nearest him, smothering his own shout. 

He drew blood and Obi-Wan shuddered again. They hadn't been this rough in months, and he liked it. He loved it. 

But it was hard work. Qui-Gon sank to the bed beside him and they held each other limply, unable to do more than pant and recover. 

Finally there was enough air in their lungs to speak, but Qui-Gon did not. He simply rolled over and silently invited Obi-Wan to hold him. There was a hint of his bashfulness in the request, and Obi-Wan was quick to respond, spooning tightly around him, wrapping his mate in his arms and squeezing. They were on the edge of sleep when a thought occurred to him that he felt he had to have an answer to right away. 

"Qui - the shunning -" 

"Mm?" 

"How long will it last?" How long would he have to go without Bant speaking to him? Without the friendly mind touch that so often accompanied greetings in the Temple? How long could he go before it began to make him sad, and angry? 

Qui-Gon loosened their hands, clasped on his chest, and brought one of Obi-Wan's to his lips. Instead of kissing it, he nuzzled the palm, and licked between his fingers. Obi-Wan sighed, and shuddered slightly. 

"Until I rejoin the roster, I suppose. One of the purposes of being shunned is that you have to figure out for yourself what you've done wrong." 

"It's not a common punishment." Obi-Wan mused sleepily. He nudged Qui-Gon with his soft cock, just to feel the answering wiggle of the lean hips. Qui-Gon Jinn wiggled. Who knew? 

"No. It is reserved for cases that must be handled with delicacy, but where the Council wants to make its disapproval clear." He'd caught the thought about the wiggling and did it again, deliberately. Obi-Wan smiled into his shoulder. "We'll be shunned until I do as they order." He didn't sound particularly unhappy about it, but Obi-Wan knew better. Though a solitary man by nature, his Master valued the friends he did have and the time he could spend with them. 

"What will they do if you take longer than they're willing to wait?" 

"I don't know, Obilove." Qui-Gon sighed and returned their hands to the clasp. His heart beat slow and strong beneath the pulse on Obi-Wan's wrist. "We will have to wait and see." 

"And there's always the bond to worry about, too." Obi-Wan yawned and wondered why he was so tired. They had both been sleeping a lot lately. 

"'M not worried." Half asleep already, though he had just recently woken up, Qui-Gon sighed and snuggled back further into Obi-Wan's embrace. It made the younger man flush with warmth, knowing that Qui felt comfortable being held by him, even if it embarrassed him. He hoped that the shyness would pass, and that he could hold his Sonju more often in the future. 

He hoped he could hold him forever.


End file.
